Nightcrawlers
by AshlaTi
Summary: A Clone War vet might have brought back more than bad memories from the War. A spooky tale just in time for Halloween


CoCo District, Upper Levels Galactic City, Imperial Center

0300

The rain was pouring down in torrential sheets that left his viewscreen wipers fighting a losing battle. Officer Denjin Wells, of the Coruscant Guard, squinted to see through it all as he moved his patrol airspeeder through the airways. Luckily at this time of night and in weather like this airway traffic was pretty light in the commercial districts.

It was towards the middle of his shift and he was near Dex's Dinner. Recently the Basilisk owner of the restaurant had lost his overnight grill cook and had been filling in. That was lucky for the patrolman as Dex could cook up some fine sliders.

He pulled into the empty landing pad outside the diner and got out of his vehicle. The down pouring rain immediately started getting under the red, plastoid armor he wore. He put his hand over his visor for more protection and ran for the protection of the diner's awning. A bell rang on the door as he entered.

"Hey Officer Wells, what can I get ya?" Dexter called from the kitchen as soon as the Coruscant Guardsman entered. The diner had been empty except for the cook and his waitress, Hermoine Bagwa.

"A couple of sliders would be great, and a cup of caf if you would, Hermoine." Wells said as he took off his helmet. He took a seat at the counter and placed his bucket on the empty stool next to him.

"Here you go." The waitress said as she poured him a cup of the steaming brew.

"Thanks."

"Hell of a night out there." Dexter said as he flipped some nerf patties onto the grill.

"You're telling me. Wind nearly flipped me over out there on Airway 70. Thought I'd be eating the side of some building for sure." the lights flickered on and off as thunder boomed from outside.

"What's the matter, Denjin?" Hermoine asked, "Got more on your mind than the storm?"

Wells was using a napkin to dry his face, somehow rain had even gotten underneath his helmet outside. He put it down and took a long slow breath while looking at his cup of caf. "Oh, you see, that massacre over in the Bothan Quarter has us all a little bit spooked."

Dexter turned away from the grill, "What massacre?"

"You all haven't been playing your hyperwave?" The patrolman asked.

"No." Hermoine shook her head.

Wells sipped his caf before starting. He liked when beings listened to him. "Some hotel. Blasted so full of holes it looked like a war was going on. Four beings dead. Place was torched, even the airspeeders."

Hermoine wore an expression of concern as she got him some condiment bottles. He could tell she was enraptured with his story, even Dexter was all ears as the cook brought him his plate of food. It had long been rumored that Dex was some kind of information broker back in the Old Republic's days, but Wells didn't see any harm in telling him something that would be on the morning HoloNews anyway.

"They found two beings on the landing bay, another one holed up in a fresher. One even tried to blockade the door and hide under the sleeper. It didn't seem to do much good though." He nonchalantly bit into his first slider, acting as if the massacre hadn't bothered him. "The Coruscant Security Force thinks its some kind of swoop gang or something. Crazed on spice, maybe."

"Heading this way?" Hermoine gasped, fear filling her voice.

"I don't know. Which way would you go?" Wells doused his Corellian potato skins with salt.

Dexter and Hermoine looked at each other in concern. The Bothan Quarter wasn't that far away.

A vehicle landed outside. It's headlamps filled the diner with their bright light. The three occupants looked to see who was pulling up in this weather.

Outside a male Rodian got out of the driver's side of the vehicle. He ran around the family airspeeder and opened the door. Allowing the exit of two smaller Rodians. A female and a youngling. The family sprinted for the diner's doorway in an effort to escape the rain. The bell rang out as they entered.

"Evening folks." Hermoine greeted the family as they came in.

"Sit down anywhere." Dexter said. "Get yourselves warm."

"Thank you." The father said as he shook the rain off his coat and took his wife's jacket. He took the coats and hung them on a hook on the wall as the two other Rodians slipped into a booth.

"Bad night to be on the roadway." Wells said from his seat at the counter. "Got gale force winds out there. You folks planning on traveling far?"

"We're from Taung Heights in the Third Quadrant." The father said as he took off his own coat to hang up. "Thought we could pick up Airway 70 and drive on through the night."

Wells didn't bother to swallow the mouthful of food he was chewing, "I wouldn't recommend it. The way its blowing out there, you all would be better stopping off at that hotel in Pom Plaza a few blocks from here."

The father slid into the booth and nodded his head towards his wife. "That's what she said."

Hermoine approached their table. "You folks want some caf?"

"Wells continued, "Well I wouldn't push your luck." he wiped his face with his napkin again. "Tell you what, you all have your dinner and I'll escort you back there myself. How about it?"

The father considered it for a second and then nodded his appreciation. "Well that would be great. Thanks a lot, officer."

"Can I get a cheese slider and some fries?" The youngling asked Hermoine.

Suddenly there was a loud roar from outside as an overpowered engine howled up the being-made canyons of Galactic City. Everyone turned to see what was going on. They could just barely make out two vehicles narrowly avoid a head on collision. The vehicle that had been speeding down the airway swerved erratically before spinning around and approaching the diner's landing bay. It came to a stop just millimeters from the restaurant's front wall. Its bright lights lit up the diner for a moment, before the driver turned them off and got out of his vehicle.

Officer Wells stepped to the viewport in an effort to make out who it was. Lightning flashed to light up the stranger's face as he slowly approached the diner in the rain. His hair was slicked down and bedraggled. The stranger had a distant look in his eyes and wore an old GAR jungle-pattern jacket.

"Looks like we've got ourselves a live one here, Dex." Wells said.

Dex didn't say anything. The bell rang out again as the stranger entered. No one made a sound. The stranger looked around and them walked to the far end of the counter. There was a noticeable limp in his left leg as he walked.

Wells leaned against the viewport with his hands tucked into his utility belt. He tried to stare the stranger down as he passed but the man didn't make eye contact. He took a seat at the end.

"Miss, can a get a cup of really hot and really strong caf?" The stranger asked Hermoine.

"Sure." The waitress responded bringing over a pot of the steaming drink.

"Hey," Wells called out from his place by the viewport. The officer hadn't retaken his seat and was staring straight at the stranger who now had his back to him. "flying a little fast for the weather, aren't you?"

The stranger turned and looked at him over his shoulder. "Yeah, I was, sorry." and turned back to the counter.

"Yeah, well that kind of hurry will get you killed." Wells warned.

"Right. Sorry." The stranger said again as he took the cup from Hermoine. He lifted his head back and gulped it down in two swigs. "Ahh, Can I get another one of those?"

Hermoine nodded and refilled his cup. "You want to look at a menu or something?"

"Thank you."

Hermoine walked out from behind the counter and moved around the stranger. She walked past Wells, "Come on, Denjin, leave him alone. He's just tired."

Dexter came out of the kitchen and approached the stranger. "Something to eat?"

"No thanks. You got any cold Ebla?" the stranger asked.

Dexter smiled as he came to a stop across the counter from the man. One of his four hands wiped the counter clean with a rag. He shook his head. "I wish. Sorry, ever since we became the Empire a few months back there's been a whole new host of civilian regulations. I haven't been able to get my Imperial Liquor License yet."

Wells stepped up and took his cup from the counter and turned back to the viewport, pretending that he wasn't listening to their conversation.

"Too bad," the stranger said. "A cold Ebla taste great about now."

The stranger got a far away look in his eyes and stared past Dexter at the wall behind the Basilisk. Dexter looked down at the human's hand and was surprised to see him holding a bottle of Ebla beer.

"Oh, it's just as well. Ebla would just make me sleepy anyways." The stranger said.

Dexter blinked and the man was holding a cup of caf again. Dexter was speechless. He didn't say anything because he thought maybe his mind was playing tricks on him.

"Our specials tonight are fried nerf steak, pickled Garto eggs . . ." Hermoine told the Rodians across the diner at their booth. Her voice tore Dexter's attention from the stranger back to the real world. He wore a troubled expression across his features.

"Something wrong?" The stranger asked.

"No." Dexter responded, one free hand grabbing the simmering pot behind him. "More caf?"

"Yeah, thanks. I think one more ought to do it."

As Dexter refilled the man's cup. The disheveled human pulled out a small pill container from his jacket pocket. He snapped open the lid and shook out two small pills into his hand. He rapidly popped them into his mouth and washed them down with some caf. Dexter walked back to the kitchen.

Wells had turned and seen him do it. The officer sat back at his stool and watched the stranger out of the corner of his eye. "You got script for that spice you just took?"

The stranger turned his head towards the officer. "Sure do, Mr Trooper."

Hermoine came up behind the stranger and patted him on the shoulder. "Hey, how about a bowl of Roba Stew or something? You look like you could use a meal."

"No thanks. The sooner I get back in the airways, the better."

"Back in the airways?" Wells repeated as if accusing the stranger of something.

"That's right."

"I don't think so." The officer told him."I wouldn't like the way you flew in here if it was bone dry and daylight outside." He turned and pointed at the booth of Rodians, "I'm getting ready to escort these nice folks to a hotel. I suggest you spend the night there too."

The stranger stared at the patrolman with simmering anger in his eyes. "No, sir." he turned his head and looked out the viewport at the falling rain. "No, I'll be spending the night behind the control stick."

"You in such a big hurry. You must be running from something."

The stranger pulled out a cigarra lighter and flicked it open. Staring at the small device in his hand for a long moment before turning back to the Coruscant Guardsman. "I'm not running from anything Mr. Trooper. I just like to keep moving."

Hermoine came over to replenish the man's cup. She noticed the engraving on the lighter. "Nightcrawlers?"

Wells was coolly sipping his caf when he heard the vaguely familiar name. He spun his head back to the stranger. "What was that? Nightcrawlers?"

"That's what it said on the lighter." Hermoine answered and walked back to the Rodians.

Wells stared at the stranger. Waiting for an explanation for the engraving.

"I was in the War. Everyone in my unit got one." The stranger finally said.

"That right. You a clone vet?" Wells asked.

The stranger sighed. "Yeah, I'm a vet. I'd rather not talk about it."

Wells was suddenly fascinated. He had always wanted to enlist and had hero-worshipped the clonetroopers of the GAR. The War had sounded so glamorous on the HoloNews. He stood up and carried his cup over to the stranger. He took the seat right next to the clone. "What unit were you in? Infantry, paratroopers, artillery . . ."

The clone turned to the officer, "You never even heard me did you?"

"Heard what?"

"I don't want to talk about the Clone War."

"Why not?"

"Denjin, why don't you just leave him alone." Hermoine said from the other end of the counter.

Wells just gave her an innocent look as if it had never occurred to him that he was bothering the stranger. He turned back to the clone. "Why don't you want to talk about the war?"

The clone just stared straight ahead. "Because I'm ashamed."

"Of what? You get a dishonorable discharge or something? I thought they reconditioned clones who got out of line." Wells said.

"Nope."

"Then what unit were you in?"

The clone sighed, wishing he wasn't being forced to have this conversation, but seeing no way around it. "I was in a special clone commando unit deployed quite early in the War, a few days after Geonosis in fact, to recon the Seppers positions on a questionable planet in the Mid-Rim." The clone looked down at the lighter and started flipping it on and off. "Did a lot of crawling through jungles and swamps in the dark. Nightcrawlers."

"Why didn't you want to talk about that?" Wells probed. "Should be proud of that, not ashamed. Man, I wish I could have gone. I was kind of young, and things were winding down with the Outer-Rim Sieges. But I bet you laid out some of those droids and those Seppers out didn't you." the officer said with an envious smile. "I was behind you guys one hundred percent. I wanted you to stay in there and fight it out. Too bad the Sep Council threw in the towel. You boys could have wiped them all out, then we wouldn't have to be dealing with all these hold-out Sepper worlds the HoloNews goes on about."

The clone tried to ignore the officer. He stared at his lighter and the far wall while the patrolman blathered on. Finally he could stay quiet no longer, "Yeah, I should have stayed. I ought to be there right now. Buried in the mud of a crop field along with the other eight brothers in my patrol." Lightning flashed outside.

"Lost them all?" Wells asked in disbelief.

The clone looked at him out of the corner of his eye and nodded.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to . . ."

The clone pushed himself away from the counter. "Yeah, well I'll be on my way." He tucked the lighter back into his pocket. He called out to Dexter, "What do I owe you?"

"Caf is a credit." The Basilisk called back.

Wells jumped up and blocked the clone from moving forward. The Coruscant Guardman placed his armored hand upon the other man's chest to stop him, "Whoa, whoa, whoa. I meant what I said about that hotel."

The clone was becoming anxious and irritated. "What can I do for you Mr. Trooper? You that disappointed you didn't get out there?"

"That's got nothing to do with it." Wells stuttered.

"Maybe you haven't heard enough about it. You want to know what it was like. Is that it?"

"I know what it was like out there. I have buddies who commanded you clones out there." the patrolman responded.

"Listen, I came home walking on the bodies of my brothers." He paused and stared down the patrolman. "Now, you know what that's like?"

"War is over, friend." Dexter said from behind the counter. "No need to bring it back."

The clone turned to the diner's owner, "Bring it back? It never went away. Not for me." He turned and looked out the viewport at the storm. "You think its lousy out there tonight?" Lightning flashes hinted at the shapes of troopers in the darkness. "Try this in mud up to your knees and its dark like the inside of your trouser pocket, and that last time when everything went up, blasts being fired off everywhere around us. One of the nightcrawlers got off a flare. Oh man, it was beautiful." There was a shaking tremble in the clone's words as his suppressed memories poured fourth. Everyone in the diner hung on his every word. "We walked right into hell. We had tinnies up one side of us and down the other. One of my brothers screamed, 'Seppers in the light!'" Flashes from the landing pad revealed the trooper shapes outside had vanished. "We just started laying down blasts, trying to punch a hole through. But they were everywhere. Guys were screaming as they got hit. Except the guys who got it in the mouth and they just made wet sounds as they fell down into the mud. I got my first one in the next one went through my hand."

The clone was breathing heavy as if he was back in the field under fire. He held up his hand and looked at it. A round scar was formed on both sides of it. "Right through the back and out the palm. I dropped my blaster rifle," His voice a rising shout, "And when I reached down for it, my hand went into something soft and sticky."

Wells tried stopping him, "You don't have to go through all this."

The clone yelled, "Oh yeah man, I know. But now, I want to."

He stared at the patrolman for a long moment, daring him to stop him. Wells swallowed hard, wondering just what it was he had unleashed in this poor veteran. Outside on the landing bay, between the flashes of lightning shadowy figures could be seen moving cautiously forward.

The clone continued, "My brothers were fighting and screaming, dying all around me. I could feel the plasma bolts tugging at my armor plates as they went through. So you know what I did, Mr. Trooper?"

Wells said nothing, just stared at the clone.

"I ran. I left my unit behind. Because the only way I could save my own life was stepping on bodies, driving them down into the mud. And I'm not talking about the bodies of the Seppers, man. I'm talking about the bodies of my brothers. I didn't just desert these guys, I buried them. I stang near choked them as my boots stepped on their faces.

I knew these guys since we were decanted as clone younglings together. So maybe you ought to keep your opinion to yourself, Mr Trooper! Cause when I hear some mongrel like you say he understands! I want to kick your teeth down your throat." The clone growled. He raised his arm and jabbed it into the chest armor of the patrolman. "No body who wasn't there will ever understand!"

The clones was still breathing heavy. He stepped forward and threw a shoulder into Wells as he stepped past him. The CG patrolman just turned and stared at the passing clone in shock.

The clone walked up to the booth with the Rodian family, his tone turn much more polite, "I'm sorry folks, for disturbing your dinner." he turned to Dexter at the credit register. "How much do I owe you, friend?"

"A cup of caf is one cred." Dexter answered.

The clone dug out some credits from his jacket pocket. Wells quietly walked behind the clone and blocked his exit through the diner's front door. The clone turned as Wells put up his palm, the officer was much more respectful than earlier, "Let's just wait a minute. I understand you all had a hard time out there, but that doesn't allow you to show disrespect to Imperial law enforcement. I can't let you go out there high on spice. I don't want to be scraping you off of some low-level rooftop. So would you please come back to that hotel with us and get a good night's rest?"

"You don't want me at no hotel, Mr. Trooper. Not unless you want a lot of innocent beings getting hurt."

"What?" Wells wasn't sure if he heard the clone right.

"You heard me, step aside." The clone said.

"What was that about a hotel?" The patrolman demanded. The Rodian father got out of his seat and stepped in front of his family. Dexter and Hermoine looked on nervously from behind the counter.

"The last time I stopped in a hotel I fell asleep. And a little bit of this this War I brought back, came home." The clone said.

"What in the Seven Hells are you talking about?"

"Oh, man. I've ran into four other clone vets so far that can do the same thing. We're all getting really good at it."

"Good at what?" Dexter asked the clone.

The clone turned around and faced the Basilisk cook. "I don't believe you have a Shaak T-bone steak on your menu, do you?"

"No." Dexter responded, highly concerned where the ex-clonetrooper was going with his question.

"Make mine medium-rare." The clone said and looked at the empty grill.

Dexter did as well and was shocked when a thick slab of T-bone materialized out of thin air in the middle of the grill. The juices from the meat sizzled and popped from the heat of the grill as the odor of grilled steak filled the diner.

"Oh, wow." Hermoine whispered unable to take her eyes away from the steak.

Wells's jaw dropped in disbelief.

"Dad, look at that." The Rodian youngling pointed.

The clone shuffled into the center of the diner. "Yeah, we're getting really good at it. Really good." the clone looked tired and exhaustion played in his voice. He turned to the Rodian mother, "I mean they don't last long, unless I'm asleep. And then they last just as long as they last."

"What is this some kind of a trick?" Wells called from the door.

"Aw, come on, Mr. Trooper. You can smell it can't you?" he didn't bother to face the patrolman anymore. "I know I can." He looked at Dexter, "You know this one clone I ran into, he had this theory. He said he thought maybe we got sprayed with something. You know, something the Seppers cooked up to deal with the Jedi or something. Something too dangerous to keep using." he sighed and closed his eyes. "Oh, whatever."

Wells slowly walked up behind the clone. "You want to tell me which hotel you fell asleep in? What happened there?"

The clone appeared at the verge of tears. His eyes were puffy and red and he swayed back and forth on the balls of his feet, "I went to sleep, and, and, and I couldn't wake myself up. I mean, I was locked in, right. I was locked in this nightmare." He seemed in a near panic, his arms reaching out to block unseen invaders, "And when I did wake up they were coming through the door. I mean, they were tearing the doors right off its hinges! And one of them had a blaster rifle, had a blaster rifle." His eyes rolled upwards and sweat was flopping down his unshaven face. "It was pointed at me, pointed right at my heart. And I could see him. I could see him." The vet raised his hands and pulled frantically at his hair as he talked, "I could see his eyes. I could see his muddy face. Come on do it! Do it! Come on!" He pounded his fists into his chest. "Then I ran. By the Force, I ran! Come on! Come on! Come on! And then I ran! Stang it, I ran! I ran! I ran again." he broke down in panting sobs as thunder boomed from outside.

He spun around, fist clenched at his sides. "Mr. Trooper, you don't want me in your district, believe me. Not with a body count like I've got on my hands."

Wells reached down and unholstered his sidearm. It withdrew the blaster pistol and pointed it at the clone's chest.

"Get down, Ani." The mother shoved her youngling under the table of their booth.

"You're coming with me, mister. I'm placing you under arrest." Wells said.

The clone looked down at the weapon in anger. His eyes wide. The patrolman screamed and dropped the blaster pistol to the floor. The pistol hit the floor with a wet smack and melted into the tile like it was a stick of butter on the hot grill. Wells dropped to his knees in pain and clutched his arm. The scorched skin of his hand showed through the melted plastoid of his power glove and was covered with searing boils and burns. He looked slowly up at the clone in confusion.

The clone turned to Hermoine and gently placed his hands upon her shoulders, "Thanks for the caf."

"Take care of yourself." The waitress replied in shock.

The clone turned and walked towards the door. Wells reacted in anger. He stood up and grabbed a condiment bottle. He growled in anger as he smashed it across the back of the clone's skull. The veteran dropped to the floor like a sack of flour.

"Denjin!" Hermoine screamed.

"I got him." Wells said quietly, standing over the unconscious clone, "I got the crazy son of a bantha."

"Did you kill him?" The youngling yelled.

"Stay out of this, Ani." His father shouted at him.

Wells bent down and with his good hand rolled the clone over onto his back. "His pulse is going like a jackhammer. Look his eyes are still moving. Come on, mister. Get up! Get up!" Wells shook him to no avail.

Suddenly the bell atop the door rang out as the Rodians fled back out into the storm. They wrapped their coats around them as they sprinted for their airspeeder. Loud turbine engines roared out from overhead. They stopped at the edge of the awning and peered into the pitch black sky. "By the Core, what is that?" the father yelled.

"Sounds like a military transport!" The mother screamed.

"You can't fly a LAAT in a storm like this!" The Rodian male tried to shout above the noise of the storm.

The far side of the landing bay lit up from a slowly drifting red flare. The family squinted as their night vision was destroyed. They were thrown off their feet as mortar rounds dropped amongst the vehicles parked outside, shredding the airspeeders and throwing chunks of durasteel up and down the roadway.

"Get up, Mister!" Wells continued to berate the unconscious figure as Dexter tried to pull the Coruscant Guardsman off of the clone. Hermonie shrieked as the sound of the mortar strike sounded from outside. The Rodian father got his family back to their feet and rushed back inside the diner. He looked back over his shoulder as he entered. Shadowy figures were coming out of the dark and advancing on the diners. He wasn't sure but they looked like they were covered in mud and carrying blaster rifles.

Inside the diner, the clone was living his nightmare inside his mind. His dream showed him the approach of the Nightcrawlers as they advanced out of the swamp and passed by the vehicles in the parking lot. They were the clones he had abandoned so long ago, come to take their revenge.

Dexter looked out the viewport and saw that the ground outside his diner was strewn with the corpses of Seppers and droids. Eight clonetroopers stepped out from behind the burning airspeeders outside. They advanced slowly, their boots crunching the bones underneath their feet.

The clones opened up with their blaster rifles. The glass in the viewports shattered as rounds tore into the diner. Everyone hit the floor. The oven caught fire as the jukebox exploded. Hermoine shrieked in terror.

The Rodian female kneeled down next to the unconscious clone and cradled his head. "Wake up, mister. For the Core's sake, wake up." She sobbed.

An airspeeder exploded on the landing dock. The Rodian youngling poked his head up to stare in wide-eyed disbelief at the troopers outside.

"Wake up! Mister, wake up!" The mother slapped the clone across the face.

Dexter and Hermoine leaped across the counter for cover as hundreds of bolts tore through the diner. Dexter sat up and stared in shock as his restaurant caught fire. The Rodians took cover in their booth as the parents covered their youngling with their bodies. "I don't like blasters, mom." The youngling cried out.

Caf cups exploded along the counter as the public comlink shattered on the wall releasing its contents in a shower of low level credits.

Wells stood up and tried to run. He got to the back door that led to the kitchen and found it jammed. He stepped back and frantically attempted to kick it down. Automatic blaster fire from outside caught him in the back. His armor and body were torn apart by dozens of bolts as he slid lifelessly down the length of the door.

A trooper burst in the burning front door. He stood silhouetted in the entrance and gazed in at the chaos inside the diner. Dexter locked eyes with the phantom clone trooper. The attacker raised his blaster in Dexter's direction.

"No! Don't!" Hermoine screamed and flung a frying pan across the length of the counter. The projectile hit the clone on the side of the helmet and dropped him to the ground.

Dexter reacted instinctively and rushed forward. He dove on the frying pan and then crouched over the awakening stranger. The man looked up at him in terror.

"No, Dex, no!" Hermoine yelled.

"Come on! Kill him!" The father shouted.

Dexter hesitated. He knew the attackers where all in the clone's mind. If he smashed in his skull the ghostly troopers should vanish, he hoped. He couldn't do it and paused a fraction of a second too long. He looked up and spotted a second clonetrooper in the doorway.

A blast rang out catching the diner cook in the shoulder and throwing him back and away from the clone on the floor.

The clone troopers smashed their way in through the burning wreckage of the diner's front. They stood over the ranting clone on the floor.

"Seppers in the light!"

"Seppers in the light!"

"Seppers in the light!" he screamed over and over again.

The clone troopers leveled their blaster rifles at their former brother. They blasted until their weapons emptied.

As the flames grew brighter the ethereal figures seemed to fade away into nothingness.

The Rodian youngling pawed his way through the ash on the ground and retrieved the fallen lighter. He read the engraving again, "Nightcrawlers."

The rain was letting up when the EMTs and fire troopers arrived. They mostly wrote the survivors stories off as post traumatic shock.

Hermoine held one of Dexter's hands as he was placed on a repulsor-guerney. He was watching as his beloved diner burnt to the ground. "It's alright, Dex. You're going to be just fine." She gently rubbed his scaly head.

Dexter tried to fight off the soothing effects of the bacta wraps around his shoulder. "He said, he said, more."

"More what?" she leaned in closer to hear what he had to say. The medic started pushing Dexter towards the waiting air ambuspeeder. Hermoine followed alongside.

Dexter fought against the pain to say his last words before he passed out. "Four. More. Clones! That can do the same thing!"


End file.
